


Birthday Licks

by HastaLux



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 06:17:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20466389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HastaLux/pseuds/HastaLux
Summary: It's Gregory's birthday, and Mycroft enjoys teasing him that he's due a birthday spanking while actually offering a much more satisfying gift via his mouth.





	Birthday Licks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EilidhOg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EilidhOg/gifts).

Of all the things Mycroft gets to enjoy about being married to Gregory, he would never admit exactly how much he enjoys teasing him. It would seem too juvenile to say out loud, too far from the veneer of cultivated seriousness he has maintained for so many years. Yet it remains one of his private joys, a side of himself he can share with one person and one person alone.

And the day he enjoys it most of all is when it’s time to celebrate his beloved’s most auspicious birth.

“Remind me, love, how many is it going to be this year?” Mycroft smiles amiably across the room as Gregory’s gaze slowly narrows. If Mycroft enjoys teasing Gregory, Gregory in turn seems to very much enjoy pretending to act stern in turn. Perhaps it’s fun for him to exchange the roles the world must see them in, where Greg has the reputation for flouting convention and Mycroft, from what he has heard in passing muttered comments from his own staff, could have his photograph in the dictionary next to ‘uptight.’

“Why do I feel like you’re not asking me how many candles you’re going to need?”

“Oh, I’ve already counted the candles.” Mycroft stalks closer, wrapping his arms about his husband’s waist and squeezing his arse quite firmly- another privilege of marriage he will be forever grateful for. “I was thinking more of how much I’m going to need to warm up my hand. The shoulder as well. Can’t be too careful at our age.”

Greg’s lip twitches up into a hint of a smirk, but he holds his faux-glare. “You are  _ not _ giving me a spanking.”

“It’s a  _ birthday _ spanking, dear, that’s a very serious tradition that requires sufficient devotion and adherence.”

“Nope.”

“Not even if I bat my eyes and beg on my knees?” Mycroft hooks his fingers through Greg’s belt loops, pulling their hips together. He’s always savored the way Greg’s jeans feel against his thinner suits. There’s a firmness to it, a certain sound of cloth on cloth that feels particularly right.

The little smirk creeps up further. “That’d be a different sort of devotion, love.”

Mycroft does, in fact, bat his eyes. “Perhaps I’m aiming for both.”

“Insatiable, you.”

“You have that effect on me.” He runs his hand over the curve of Greg’s arse once more, giving it one soft tap and gazing at Gregory through his lashes. “Are you certain I cannot convince you to drop your trousers and bend over my lap?”

“Not if you want me sitting pretty at dinner. Think your brother would have something to say about that.”

“He might.” Mycroft slides his hand up, appreciating the warm muscles beneath his love’s shirt. The years might have softened them both about the midsection, but Greg’s work still leads to a certain amount of fitness beneath that Mycroft has never been shy about praising. “What if I offer a different gift instead?”

The smirk across Greg’s lips rises even further, his attempt at sternness abandoned in favor of the call of his libido. “You have my attention.”

Mycroft sinks to his knees, keeping his eyes up. He always enjoys the grin Greg gets when he starts this, the anticipation shining through those lovely deep brown eyes. His hand brushes fondly through Mycroft’s hair as Mycroft’s teeth close around the button of his trousers. It had taken a while for him to figure out how to do this well, but Mycroft does pride himself on honing his skills to the point of precision in  _ all _ areas.

“Giving me my presents early, gorgeous?”

“Mmm.” Mycroft draws the zipper down with his teeth. “There will be more later, I assure you.”

“You’re being very generous this year.” 

“Every year, I hope.”

Greg sighs, his back falling into the wall as Mycroft mouths over him, his jeans sinking to his knees. “You’re too good to me, love. Honest.”

“Am I? And here I thought I was being quite naughty.” He cuts off any further retort by dragging Greg’s pants down, freeing his husband’s thick cock and laving over it slowly, like he has to taste every inch. Slow laps of his tongue, soft kisses, each touch savored and methodical. There’s no need to rush, especially when Greg is above him making breathy noises of approval.

It’s another form of teasing, really. One that Mycroft enjoys just as much, if not more.

“Jesus- fuck, Myc-”

Mycroft draws his tongue down from base to tip, gazing upward with open adoration and smug satisfaction that he- only  _ he- _ gains this reaction from Gregory. “Mmm? My present meets with your approval?”

“God, yes.”

He takes his time about it, drawing out soft gasps from Greg every time he adjusts the rhythm, never quite letting him get so settled that he’s on the verge of coming. He could do this for hours, watching Greg squirm and fight to stay standing, his knees shuddering when the pleasure is almost too much to bear. 

Perhaps, selfishly, this is a little bit of a gift to himself too. Mycroft simply knows he is at his happiest when he makes Greg happy, whether that be through exceptional sex or otherwise.

He sucks as Greg starts to shake, holding him steady as his love spills into his mouth. Strong fingers stroke through his hair while Greg breathes through it, and Mycroft helps keep him upright until Greg is ready to fully stand on his own again, resting his cheek on Greg’s thigh. “Shall you survive dinner, my love?”

“Barely. Christ. I love you, you know that?” Gregory pulls him up and into a deep kiss. It’s wonderful that even after all these years Greg’s kisses can still make Mycroft’s heart flutter.

“I do, darling.” Mycroft kisses him back, beaming a smile. No one else would ever believe how full Mycroft’s heart feels when he’s with Greg, but it doesn’t matter. He can feel it. And he knows every bit of love he offers Gregory is felt just as deeply. “Now let’s get you cleaned up. We’ve a dinner to get through before you can open any more of your presents.”

Greg huffs a laugh. “There are more?”

“Mmm. Always. The next one might even involve a bed and a decided lack of clothes.”

“Ought to have you arrested. Indecent at all times.” He laughs, pressing a kiss to Mycroft’s cheek. “If only Whitehall knew.”

“Just you, my love.” Mycroft wraps his arms around Greg, holding him close enough to listen to his slowly calming heartbeat. “Always you.”

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt was offered by EilidhOg in her winning bid for the 2019 Rupert Graves Birthday Auction. Thank you for bidding!


End file.
